


Happy Birthday, Your Royal Dickheadedness

by cmere, Maraudererasmut



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Birthday Smut, Collaboration, FaceTime Sex, M/M, striptease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:33:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23125546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmere/pseuds/cmere, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maraudererasmut/pseuds/Maraudererasmut
Summary: Alex gives Henry his birthday gift over FaceTime. Fic + Art collab!
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 45
Kudos: 294





	Happy Birthday, Your Royal Dickheadedness

**Author's Note:**

> We had SO MUCH FUN working on this collab for Henry's birthday! Huge thanks to the History, Huh? discord for helping us brainstorm how Alex would make sure to celebrate from across the ocean, and thanks to reallycorking for reading it over!
> 
> Happy birthday, Henry!

Henry’s phone rings right at midnight, _Alex Claremont-Diaz_ flashing across the screen. He gets a little jolt in his stomach when he sees it’s a FaceTime request, even though he had been expecting some kind of call. Alex had texted him to have his phone charged and to make sure he was alone at 12AM sharp. So at 11:55, he bid Bea good night, made his way to his bedroom, and then leaned back against the headboard, trying to act casual. Which is, he thinks, pretty much impossible when it comes to interactions with Alex Claremont-Diaz. He wishes he had thought to look at himself in the mirror.

When Henry accepts the call, Alex’s smiling face greets him, and his heart suddenly feels like it’s about to burst. The last time he saw that smile was in Paris, kissing Henry goodbye from the bed they shared the night before. He clears his throat. “Hey,” he says. Casual.

“Hey, birthday boy,” Alex says, his smile growing even wider. “Did you follow my instructions?”

“My phone is at…” Henry squints at the corner. “86%, and I am alone in my bedroom. If you couldn’t tell.” He gestures at the gaudy pillows propped up behind him.

“Perfect. Hang on a second.” Alex covers the screen so Henry can’t see what’s going on. Henry’s heart starts beating a little faster against his ribcage. He hears a rustling noise, then a moment of silence. When the screen comes back on, his eyes are immediately drawn to a full-body view of Alex. In a dark suit. With a red tie. His grin has been replaced by a smirk.

>

Henry swallows.

Then Alex starts singing.

“Happy birthday...to you.” Alex’s voice is low. His hips sway a little, and his fingers find the knot in his tie, tugging it loose. Henry suddenly feels very warm. “Happy birthday to you.” Alex leaves the tie and turns around, his back to the camera. He glances over his shoulder and slowly, so slowly, shrugs off his jacket, inching it down his arms. “Happy birthday, your royal dickheadedness.” Alex’s smirk returns in full force as he tosses the jacket to the side and turns back, unbuttoning his shirt. Henry can’t help the burst of laughter that escapes him. “Happy birthday to you.” A strip of skin becomes visible on Alex’s chest, and Henry feels his face erupt in flames as he fully realizes where Alex is going with this.

“Alex…” Henry tries to say, but it comes out a hoarse whisper. Then, a song that Henry vaguely recognizes but can’t place comes on, and Alex begins to dance.

Even if Alex had no rhythm, if he moved awkwardly, if he acted like a total idiot, Henry knows he wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off him. But he _does_ have rhythm, and his body is rolling like gentle waves at sea, and his curls are falling over his forehead, and Henry is fucking _mesmerized_. He can see Alex’s eyes are closed as he brings one arm up, tugging at his belt with the other. He can hear the gentle _clink_ of metal over the music. When his belt is undone, Alex pops open the button on his pants, and just seeing Alex’s hand that close to his groin causes a tug of arousal low in Henry’s belly.

“Like what you see?” Alex untucks his shirt. “Your highness?” He keeps dancing, unbuttoning from the bottom up now, until his shirt is open with just the tie dangling over his chest. Henry merely makes a noise in response because he doesn’t trust himself to speak. Alex suddenly tears his shirt off and tosses it toward the camera. Henry almost ducks, then smiles at his own stupidity. He’s definitely stupider than normal right now. Why does Alex always have this effect on him?

Alex turns around again, then bends over and backs up, shaking his ass right at the camera. Henry was already half-hard, but Alex’s trousers slip slowly down, revealing tight, crimson boxer briefs that hug the swell of his ass perfectly, and Henry is pretty sure he’s actually going to die. He might be more turned on than he’s ever been. This might be the best birthday present he’s ever received. It might even possibly be the best day of his life. But then Alex turns back around, the camera showing from his belly to his thighs. His erection in his underwear could not be more clearly outlined. And Henry determines that he has, in fact, reached the peak moment of his life, and he’s either going to kill Alex, or he’s going to die.

Alex is still moving, backing up so Henry can manage to look at something that’s not his cock for five seconds, and he notices the fucking tie is still around Alex’s neck. He’s dancing around in a tie and boxer briefs, managing to thrust and gyrate in a way that looks completely sexy and not ridiculous at all. Henry wonders, not for the first time, where this person even came from and how he somehow chose _Henry_ to do this for.

“Henry,” Alex says, like he knows Henry’s thinking too hard when he should just be enjoying himself. Alex hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his boxer briefs and stares right into Henry’s soul, his gaze dark and intense. “Do you want me to?”

Henry’s mouth drops open. “I...erm...if...do you want to?”

Alex rolls his eyes. “C’mon, highness, tell me.” Alex rubs one hand up the length of his cock through the fabric and Henry is about to lose his fucking mind. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” Henry manages, and it’s taking all his willpower right now not to reach down and touch himself. He thinks about doing it anyway, but it doesn’t seem fair somehow, if Alex doesn’t know about it.

Alex grins. With a roll of his hips, he starts to pull his boxer briefs down, then pauses. “Are you sure?”

“Alex,” Henry groans, pushing his hair up off his forehead. “You’re going to kill me. You know that, right?”

Alex looks way too pleased with himself. Henry wants to give his stupid mouth something better to do. A small ache takes root in his chest as he thinks about the vastness of the ocean between them, at how hard it is to do the simplest things that he wants to do.

Alex turns around again, then tugs his underwear down slowly, revealing the smooth curve of his ass. Henry feels his breathing speed up, and Alex turns back, completely, blissfully naked except for the goddamn _tie_. He’s smiling for real, no sign of embarrassment in his eyes, and he lets one hand trail down his chest, his stomach, drags a finger along the length of his cock, hard and curving up toward his stomach.

“Happy birthday, Henry.”

“I think I’m dying. I think...I hate you,” Henry says. Alex takes his cock in his hand and gives a slow pull, biting his lip. Henry lets out a shaky breath. “And I hate that I can’t touch you right now. D’you think I could still get a flight over tonight?”

“What would you do to me once you got here?” Alex says. He comes closer and picks up his phone, face filling the screen. Henry is simultaneously destroyed at the loss of seeing Alex’s glorious body and relieved that he can maybe, _maybe_ , focus on words instead of his aching erection for a second. Then his brain catches up to what Alex just said, and if his blush had subsided at all, it’s definitely back in full force.

“Are we...are we doing this?” Henry lets out a nervous laugh. His free hand wanders up his shirt, over his stomach. He’s so aroused that the touch on his bare skin feels amazing, but he wishes it were Alex. So much.

“Yeah, we’re fucking doing this,” Alex says, so confident it makes Henry’s heart hurt. “Literally all I want to be doing right now is sucking your dick. Do you know that?”

Henry grins. He lets his hand slide down, under his boxers, and grips his aching cock. “It is?” He sighs, soft and breathy.

“Are you touching yourself?” Alex demands.

“Tell me,” Henry says, ignoring Alex’s question. “Tell me how you’d do it.” He rubs himself slowly and bites his lip, pleased to see that Alex is the one with wide, wild eyes now.

“Are you fucking touching yourself?”

Henry is so aware of the heat prickling at his cheeks, of the weight of his cock in his hand, of the shudder of pleasure wracking his body. He takes a shaky breath and looks at Alex, at the curls across Alex’s forehead, at Alex’s dark, beautiful eyes that he wants to lose himself in forever. He nods, just barely. A shadow of an expression crosses Alex’s face.

“Show me.”

Henry wishes he had a free hand to cover his own face. He doesn’t know how to respond to Alex just asking for what he wants, like it’s so easy, like it’s his god-given right, like he knows he’s going to get it anyway.

“Alex,” he says haltingly, and he hates how breathy his voice sounds, but then Alex’s expression changes so it looks like he’s about to crawl through the phone, and Henry would give anything for him to do it.

“Please?” Alex whispers. He sounds breathy now, too, and his eyes flutter closed for a second before opening again. Henry knows without a doubt he’s jerking himself off, and the thought of it sends a jolt through his groin. He moans.

Hesitantly, he starts to lower the phone, down over his Ziggy Stardust t-shirt, over the stretch of skin showing across his stomach, to his hand working himself under his pyjama bottoms. He can see Alex watching, intent, his lips parted.

“If I start talking—will you show me everything?” Alex says, his breath hitching mid-sentence.

“Maybe,” Henry replies, going slow enough to make sure he’ll last.

“If I was there,” Alex begins, and his voice is low and hot and _everything_ , “I’d have kissed you right at midnight, and I would have kept kissing you. I would have kissed you stupid, til you were panting and hard and aching for me to touch you.”

“You still accomplished that bit,” Henry points out. Alex laughs.

“I would have kissed you until your mouth forgot how it felt without mine. Then I would have kissed your neck, the spot just below your ear that you love. I would have pushed up your shirt and kissed your chest. Run my hands all over your skin, and made you shiver and gasp for me.”

Henry’s head is a mess of thoughts, his body a mess of feeling. He closes his eyes—he doesn’t think he could do this with his eyes open—and releases himself so he can tug down the waistband of his pyjama bottoms and boxers, lifting his hips, until they’re around his thighs. He hears Alex let out a long, slow breath, and he squints down at the screen to see him looking as wrecked as Henry feels, which helps Henry overcome his embarrassment. He fists his cock again and speeds up, pleasure pooling in his groin.

“I’d—” Alex interrupts himself by gasping a little, and Henry imagines what he must be _doing_ to himself—“I’d suck all along the waistband of your pants until you were begging me to take them off you. I’d slip my tongue under just enough to tease you, and you’d be fucking—cursing my name with how much you wanted it.”

“Fuck,” Henry groans. Alex’s voice feels like it’s dripping into him, and Henry’s hand is flying over his cock.

“God, you’re so good, you’re fucking perfect,” Alex says, and Henry can hear obscene noises coming from his end of the phone.

“Show me,” Henry says suddenly. “I want to see you, too.” He moans at the feeling building inside him, at the overwhelming desire overtaking him. Alex doesn’t hesitate, just angles the phone down, and he’s still wearing his ridiculous tie, and the obscene noises become visuals too, and Alex is jerking himself as fast as Henry. Henry thinks about touching him, thinks about the feel of Alex in his hand and his mouth, still new but becoming familiar, now, familiar enough that he can almost taste him. “Fuck. I want you.”

“Fuck,” Alex agrees. “I want to feel how hard you are for me with my tongue. I want to swallow you down until you forget your goddamn name. I want to—”

“Alex,” Henry interrupts, panting now, too caught up to even care. “I’m—I’m going to—”

“Your face,” Alex says. He puts the camera back up to his own and Henry does, too. “I want to see your face when you come for me, baby.”

With that, Henry unravels. He cries out, stuttered, as his body jerks, pleasure and relief racing through him. A soft laugh escapes him, breathless and disbelieving. Alex’s expression is hungry when Henry opens his eyes again, white teeth working at his red lip.

“Fuck,” Henry manages to say, “fucking Christ, Alex.” That seems to be enough to push Alex over the edge, and he can see the tension in Alex’s face as he comes, the way his eyes squeeze shut and the litany of curses that fly out of his mouth. Henry feels a smile spread across his face.

“Jesus fuck,” Alex finishes, and he looks at Henry again. “You’re fucking incredible. Do you know that?”

“I didn’t even do anything,” Henry says. He’s not sure Alex knows what it does to him when he _says_ things like that.

“You—” Alex seems almost at a loss for words, and that’s becoming familiar, too. “You just—touching yourself like that—with your fucking hands, have you seen your fucking hands? Jesus.”

Henry laughs, and Alex grins sheepishly, and Henry’s heart is so light it feels like it could float away. They look at each other for a minute, not saying anything.

“So,” Alex says finally, “happy birthday, your highness. Or whatever.”

“How many times do I have to tell you—”

“Happy birthday, Henry.”

Henry tries to control the feeling threatening to overwhelm him. It feels like it could spill out of him at any second. “Thank you. I liked my gift.”

“Yeah. I could tell.”

“Shut up,” Henry says. “It seems like it was kind of a gift for yourself, too.”

“I’ve been wondering how I could get you to have phone sex with me.”

“You could have just asked, you know.”

“Really? You wouldn’t have had some royal crisis about it?”

“I’m open to a lot of things. You’d be surprised.”

“Oh,” Alex says, and then the implications of this seem to settle on him further. “ _Oh_.”

“Don’t worry. I’m already getting ideas for your birthday.”

Alex smiles, bright and open and beautiful, and that, Henry thinks, is the best gift he could have received.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are amazing! Find us on tumblr: [cmere](https://omgcmere.tumblr.com/) \+ [maraudererasmut](https://maraudererasmut.tumblr.com/)


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